


Accusations

by Lynse



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Identity Reveal, One Shot, Reveal, Season/Series 04, and just unnamed people, so there's some light-hearted banter, there is death but it's off screen, trying not to angst as much as I usually do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22205119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynse/pseuds/Lynse
Summary: Accused of sorcery, Merlin is imprisoned on Uther's orders. Of course, no one else (especially Arthur) seems to think he deserves that.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 247





	Accusations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lumanae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumanae/gifts).



> Written for Luma, as a gift from someone else. *grins* Set sometime in S4 ~~it's been too long since I've watched the series through to have a better idea than that~~. Spells are taken from the Merlin wiki page.

When Arthur walked up to him, flanked by guards Merlin barely recognized (which was a feat, considering how many of the castle folk he knew), Merlin looked between them and asked, “What did I do now—or, I’m sorry, is it something I _didn’t_ do, your royal prattiness?”

Arthur’s expression tightened, and Merlin realized he was serious. “You’ve been accused of sorcery,” he answered flatly, causing Merlin’s head to spin as he tried to figure out _who_ and _why_ and _where he’d been seen_ , “so until we can sort everything out, my father insists that you be imprisoned.”

 _Imprisoned_. It sounded so final. He’d always known it was a possibility—this was Camelot, after all, and with some of Arthur’s reckless moves, Merlin couldn’t always afford to be as careful as he needed—but he just….

He’d thought training here, having Gaius’s guidance, was worth the risk. His mother had certainly thought so. And it had been. Sure, there wasn’t always time for much more than self-taught learning from Gaius’s books, but they were still his books. Really, Merlin had learned more from Gaius than he had from Kilgharrah, even if he hadn’t known of his destiny—or how it intertwined with Arthur’s—until his meeting with the Great Dragon.

But now that he knew, he couldn’t just run. He _had_ to stay by Arthur’s side. He had to protect him. To see this through. To make sure Arthur became the great king he was destined to be.

How could he do that when he was trapped in the bowels of the castle? He wasn’t good enough to enchant a pile of rags to look like him while he ran around as Dragoon. Gaius could slip the guards something—might anyway, just to talk to Merlin once he found out about this—but all his friends—

“Better eat the rest of your bread,” Arthur said quietly. “You know the prisoners aren’t as well fed as the rest of us, and father insists you don’t get any special treatment.”

Merlin’s fingers found the heel of the loaf he’d swiped from the kitchens earlier and curled around it, but he couldn’t eat now. His mouth was too dry. He couldn’t believe this was happening. When had Uther issued the order? It hadn’t been very long since Merlin had delivered Arthur’s lunch, and it had only taken a few snide remarks before Arthur had dismissed him. Arthur hadn’t known of this then. He would have said something. At the very least, it would have shown on his face.

“He doesn’t like the idea that a sorcerer could get so close to me,” Arthur continued. “I tried to tell him he was ridiculous. _You_ , of all people, could not be a sorcerer.” Perhaps he caught the expression on Merlin’s face, for his tone softened, and he added, “I’m sorry, Merlin. I don’t know how much farther I can push him before he insists that my defence of you is proof of your sorcery. He might think I’ve been enchanted.”

“Why…?” No. That wasn’t the right question, not right now. He couldn’t think straight. “I mean, who accused me?”

He’d always thought, if any of his friends did find out, that they wouldn’t betray him. Confront him, sure, but not _betray_ him. Not do this.

But perhaps they wouldn’t. Arthur had come on the king’s orders, perhaps as much to appease his father and set his mind at ease as anything else, but the guards…. Merlin didn’t know them. Maybe, just maybe, that was because no one else who might have normally accompanied Arthur had agreed to be a part of this.

He hadn’t thought everyone else shared Arthur’s convictions that his apparent ineptitude made it impossible that he was a sorcerer, but if that turned out to be what saved him….

Assuming he could be saved, when he didn’t know who had seen him using magic. The king wouldn’t take any risks where his son’s safety might be involved. He might even think Merlin had orchestrated the first attack from which he had saved Arthur, just to get the position he’d initially hated.

“I don’t know,” Arthur said, “but I’m going to find out.”

-|-

The cells were as unpleasant as Merlin remembered. Not that he had ever spent much time here, even just visiting others, but the stench of blood and waste seemed to have soaked into the stone. It was as bad as mucking out the stables. Worse, really; the hay wasn’t changed nearly as often, and musty rot settled on the back of his tongue.

The cell door locked behind the guards. Merlin sank down to the rough floor and leaned against the wall, shivering slightly even as he closed his eyes and waited for Arthur’s footsteps to finally retreat. He needed to find a way out of this. Unlocking the cell wasn’t his problem. Getting out to escape via the tunnels was a bit more difficult, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He’d taken that route too often before, sometimes even at Arthur’s orders, for no one to guess that that would be his most logical way out of the citadel. But leaving? Now? When he’d hardly done anything, when _Arthur_ hadn’t done anything? He couldn’t. He’d never be able to return to Camelot. He might as well admit his guilt now and help them ready the pyre if he tried.

“Merlin?”

That was Gwen’s voice.

“Come on, Merlin, I know how hard Arthur works you, but you can’t possibly be asleep.”

It _was_ Gwen. Merlin opened his eyes and saw her crouching by his cell, stealing frequent glances over her shoulder even as she beckoned him forward. He obediently came to meet her at the bars. “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered. “The guards—”

“I asked Gaius for a sleeping draught the moment I heard, and then I brought them some wine. I know we must still be quiet, but—”

“It’s dangerous for you either way. Anyone who tries will be able to figure out what you did, and I don’t want to see you or Gaius in here with me.”

Gwen pursed her lips. “You don’t deserve this. You aren’t a sorcerer.”

Merlin couldn’t think of anything he could say to that that wouldn’t incriminate him, and he didn’t want to lie to her right now, so he said nothing.

Luckily, Gwen was prone to rambling when she was nervous, and he didn’t think she noticed. “And even if you _were_ a sorcerer, you wouldn’t…. You wouldn’t plot against the king, against Camelot. I know you, Merlin. Not like…. Not like I thought I knew Morgana. Please, Gwaine’s planning a distraction for the moment one of the others can get the keys, and Arthur won’t stop us if he finds out. We won’t see you burn for this. You just need to promise me, promise _us_ , that you’ll run.”

“It would be a death sentence if I ran,” Merlin murmured. “Uther would see it as proof of my guilt.”

“He’ll find proof enough even if you stay,” she retorted. “You know he will. You know what happened with my father, how close…. It’s better that you run. You can come back once we find a way to clear your name.”

“And what if you can’t?”

“We _will_. Whoever has accused you must have seen someone else. Or perhaps it’s a terrible lie. Whichever the case, we’ll get to the bottom of it. You just need to give us the time to do that.”

It was possible that he had been mistakenly accused. It was possible that someone who _did_ know of his power was trying to get him away from Arthur. And it was entirely possible that whoever had accused him of sorcery was entirely well-meaning, in their own way, and speaking true.

“Just be ready to run,” Gwen said, “the next time someone comes for you. Even if it isn’t one of us.”

-|-

Merlin never found out what Gwaine’s distraction was—only that it involved a lot of shouting, and quite possibly a lot of fire, judging by the smell. He never found out who had filched the key, either, but night had barely fallen before the guards stationed at the end of the corridor were running to help with something.

Hardly three breaths later, Leon was slipping down the stairwell and walking towards the cells.

“I’m sure you know the way through the tunnels well,” he said as he unlocked the door, “but I promised Arthur I’d escort you in case you suddenly found your memory lacking.”

“I can’t leave Camelot,” Merlin said immediately. He’d decided as much once Gwen left. There might never be enough time, not when he wasn’t innocent and couldn’t be proven as such. Even if he had good intentions, he still had magic.

Merlin only knew of a handful who still lived despite Uther knowing their abilities, Gaius among them, but he also knew he couldn’t expect similar treatment.

“Arthur thought you may say that, too,” Leon said, a smile teasing at the corners of his lips now. “In that case, I have orders to hide you within the castle where you’ll never be found.”

Merlin pulled a face. “Tell Arthur that just because _he_ never goes into the stables, it doesn’t mean they’re abandoned except for the horses.”

Leon snorted and pulled Merlin forward when he didn’t move to leave the cell. Merlin’s half-hearted resistance wasn’t enough to match Leon’s strength. “I don’t believe even he would think to hide you anywhere as accessible as that.”

“The laundry isn’t any better, you know.”

“I do know. And, though you may be surprised to hear it, Arthur knows as well.” Leon didn’t bother to lock the cell again, maybe because he didn’t dare loosen his grip on Merlin’s arm, and instead tugged him forward. “Come, we must hurry. Gwen’s waiting by tapestry.”

Merlin frowned. He suspected he knew which tapestry Leon meant—there was one nearby with a servant’s passageway hidden behind it—but it was one of the main connections to the kitchens, and—

“Gwaine’s distraction won’t last long, no matter how much Elyan and Percival can do to add to the confusion. Stop trying to drag your feet.” Leon moved quickly but surprisingly silently. Merlin opened his mouth to protest when Leon pulled him into an alcove near the laundry, but then Leon said, “Elyan found a cloak for you.” He nodded to a brown bundle of cloth half-hidden behind a console table, adding, “We must still do our own laundry.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said as Leon helped him into the disguise. It wasn’t much, but Merlin was grateful for any time it might buy him. And going along with everything was easier than protesting. He didn’t seem to be getting anywhere by protesting.

Besides, the cloak hopefully meant Arthur’s brilliant plan wasn’t trying to stuff him into a garderobe.

Not that Merlin would put it past him. Arthur would find it hilarious. Probably say Merlin shouldn’t even notice the smell.

Merlin kept the hood of the cloak pulled low, even inside, and would have instinctively shrunk towards the walls when they met others had Leon not been there. The nudges weren’t terribly subtle, but they were reminder enough to walk with confidence, and everyone they passed was too preoccupied to worry about them, anyway. Or rather, if they thought anything of it, they surely believed Leon had it all in hand.

The pass off to Gwen went smoothly. Leon never broke his stride. As they passed the tapestry, he let go of Merlin, and Gwen latched her arm around Merlin’s instead. She was small, but she certainly wasn’t weak, and she was pulling him along the passageways nearly as quickly as he’d been moving with Leon. If Merlin hadn’t known the way so well, he’d have tripped over the occasional trick step that was a different height than the others.

“Why are we going up?” Merlin asked, but Gwen shushed him instead of answering. The guestrooms would be searched; there may be a lot of them, but none of them were suitable for hiding him.

But then Gwen pulled him out of the passage at a familiar spot, sliding open the hidden door with a familiarity few servants could claim, most not having duties that required them to use this particular exit to the main corridors.

Merlin stared, and Gwen rolled her eyes and tugged on Merlin’s arm to get him moving. His feet responded before his mind fully comprehended the fact that Arthur’s backup plan, should Merlin refuse to escape via the tunnels, was to hide him in his own bedchamber.

Two guards stood outside despite the chaos that reigned below. Merlin wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t for show—when was Arthur not in the middle things?—but Gwen muttered, “I told Arthur you’d be coming here. He didn’t want to listen. He still thinks this’ll be as easy as when we hid Mordred. Because he still thinks that was relatively _easy_.” She flashed him a smile as she said it, marching him up to the guards and announcing, “Arthur’s expecting him.”

Merlin rather suspected they knew very well who he was, since they didn’t even question Gwen or ask him to show his face.

“Good luck,” Gwen murmured as she pushed him inside.

-|-

Merlin still half-expected Arthur to be preoccupied with whatever distraction Gwaine and the others had set, but he sat at his writing table with parchment and a quill. Merlin couldn’t guess what he was bothering to write by candlelight, but the prince wasn’t even out of his day clothes yet. “Are you really as hopeless at undressing as you are at dressing?” he asked, tugging his hood down.

Arthur scowled at him. “You were supposed to leave Camelot.”

“Doesn’t sound like anyone really expected me to do that.” Merlin held out his arms. “I’ve got a cloak, but it wasn’t stashed where it would be if everyone thought I was leaving.”

“You’re in danger here.”

“More than I might be, if I weren’t in the prince’s private bedchambers. What if I were an assassin?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “This is serious. You aren’t in Ealdor. Sorcery isn’t simply shunned. My father—”

“I know the punishment for sorcery. And sorcery isn’t just shunned in Ealdor, either. I…. Will was a good friend of mine. That’s the only reason I knew. It’s not exactly something people shout about, and not just because of how near we were to Camelot’s borders.”

Arthur frowned. “You’re a shoddy servant, Merlin, but try to use some sense. You must have some in that empty head of yours. I don’t want to lose you over some false accusation. You don’t deserve that.”

Merlin grinned at him. “You mean you don’t think much of whomever was sent to replace me tonight? Really, sire, I didn’t know you cared.”

Arthur threw the quill at him, and Merlin ducked. “I already said,” Arthur repeated, “my father won’t listen to anything I say on your behalf. All you need to do is hide until we can prove your innocence. Really, it’s not that hard. Even you should be able to that out. This will work. It has to.”

Merlin bent to pick up the quill, placing it on the dining table beside him rather than returning it to the writing desk. He didn’t need to hand Arthur another weapon. “What if it doesn’t?”

“What do you mean, _what if it doesn’t_? It will. You’re not a sorcerer. The entire notion is ridiculous. Anyone can see that.”

Merlin took a breath and chose his words carefully. “I don’t really need to have magic, you know. All that matters to your father is if he believes I do.”

“And we can prove you don’t. I’ve asked Gaius to look into it. There must be some sort of test. Some way to prove that you’re just you and not some sorcerer.”

If there were some sort of test that unerringly determined someone’s potential to use magic, whether or not they were born with it, Uther would have found it despite Gaius’s efforts to keep such a thing hidden.

But Arthur didn’t always think things through when he was convinced he was right.

Even if Gaius pretended to find such a test, even if Merlin used magic to mimic whatever effect it was supposed to have to prove his innocence, it wouldn’t work. Not when the test couldn’t be repeated when Merlin wasn’t there to watch it and make sure it always proved someone’s innocence. Even if Uther didn’t jump to the conclusion that innocent people had magic when they didn’t, he’d eventually realize that the previous results meant someone close to him _did_ have magic, and that that someone wasn’t just Gaius.

And Merlin wasn’t about to condemn someone truly innocent to the pyre by using his magic to make it appear that someone else was a sorcerer.

“There isn’t any method like that,” Merlin murmured. “Everyone would know if there were.” Arthur snorted, so Merlin added, “Do you know who brought the charges forward?” If he could just figure that out—

“Apparently,” Arthur said dryly, “it’s a rumour.”

“A rumour?”

“The entire lower town has heard it, near as I can tell, and more than one of my father’s spies repeated it.” Arthur paused, then said, “Sit down, Merlin.”

Merlin usually had a habit of ignoring Arthur, but he listened this time. He pulled out Arthur’s chair at the table and sank into it. Arthur gave an approving nod, as if he’d expected protest and was pleased not to get it. Merlin didn’t have the heart to tell him he didn’t want to get into an argument right now.

He hated lying to Arthur. He did it all the time, of course. He had to. But that didn’t mean he liked it. And in these circumstances….

A show of submission, with some very real fear of winding up on the pyre, was the most he could do right now. Even once Arthur told him whatever he knew, Merlin couldn’t very well do anything about it while Arthur was around. And the clotpole clearly wasn’t about to go to sleep any time soon.

“They’re saying that there’s a sorcerer within our walls. Someone else like Morgana. They’re saying that whoever it is is simply biding their time, waiting to strike us when we least suspect it.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with me.” Well, it _did_ , because the rumour wasn’t entirely wrong, but Merlin was fairly sure whoever had started it didn’t actually know that. If anyone, it was probably about Dragoon—or Emrys, for those who had heard tell of Emrys. Which still had to do with him, technically, but Arthur didn’t need to know that.

“The ones willing to name names don’t agree with you.”

That didn’t make sense. If someone had actually seen him use magic, it shouldn’t have come about like this. There was no shame in uncovering a sorcerer, not in Camelot. It was far more dangerous to try to protect one. There wasn’t anything to be gained by telling those not in power that you suspected a sorcerer unless—

“Don’t look at me like that, Merlin. You know I don’t believe those rumours. We’ll find a way to clear your name and—”

There was a thud from the opposite wall, in the hidden corner farthest from the door. The secret entrance slid open, and Merlin watched _himself_ tumble out. “Sire,” the other Merlin gasped, “we have to go.” His eyes found Merlin’s, and he let out a squeak. “Get away from him!”

Merlin had never had cause to use that particular passageway. It wasn’t meant for servants. He wasn’t even sure he was supposed to know about it. It was _meant_ for a time when the citadel was under siege, when even the servants couldn’t be trusted, and the royals had to flee.

Arthur was on his feet, but he wasn’t wearing his sword. Until he moved, he could only defend himself with a candle and a bottle of ink. “What’s the meaning of this?” he roared. He must have intended it to be loud enough to hear from the hall, to call in the guards, but—

But the guards didn’t come.

In fact, Merlin couldn’t hear anything from outside of Arthur’s chambers.

And the prickle of magic he could feel meant they couldn’t hear what was going on inside, either. It was a subtle spell, not one he’d have noticed if he hadn’t been practicing magic detection. He couldn’t tell much more than that without a good deal of time and a spell book, but he didn’t need either of those to figure out what was going on now.

“It has to be a trick,” the other Merlin spluttered. “He can’t— That must be magic!”

Magic indeed. A glamour, and a good one. The reflection in the window matched what he saw with his own eyes. Perhaps the enchantment was enhanced with a potion, maybe even one of Morgause’s own creation. He had no idea what she’d taught her sister before the end, but Morgana was playing her part well. No one else would know of that tunnel and know him well enough to fool Arthur for even a moment.

Merlin’s eyes flicked back to the intruder’s face. Morgana’s eyes were narrowed, watching him, waiting to see what else he’d do. No doubt she was expecting him to tell Arthur what he’d seen. To protest that he was innocent. That _he_ was the real Merlin, that _she_ was the imposter.

But she’d seen him check her reflection.

Which meant that she knew that he knew what to look for.

She might draw her own conclusions. She might know that Gaius had once practiced magic. She might believe that Gaius had taught him what sorts of signs to look for, to better protect Arthur. She might assume he’d looked for some obvious sign of magic to point out to Arthur because he knew perfectly well that this was a ruse, that he was the real Merlin.

But she might also have realized that the Emrys the druids spoke of was Merlin himself.

Except…. Surely she wouldn’t have targeted him if that were the case. No, if she knew that Emrys was protecting Arthur, she must assume it was someone else. Maybe she suspected Dragoon, never realizing that he was Merlin, too.

“How did you get out?” Arthur demanded, and Merlin realized with a start that he was addressing them both.

“Leon,” he answered, but he heard Morgana say the same. She must have watched them, must have—

“Gwen took me into the passageways,” added Morgana, and she managed to say Gwen’s name without the slightest trace of a sneer on her face. Or rather, his face. “But then we heard something, and Gwen told me to come here alone while she made sure I wasn’t found.”

Arthur turned to him and raised his eyebrows. Merlin scowled at him. “We came out at the end of the hall,” he said, “and you saw me come in through the door.” He waved a hand towards it. “You’ve got your guards outside.”

“Did you leave them alive?” Morgana snapped. Arthur’s glower became more pronounced, and Merlin realized that he wondered that, too. He knew perfectly well that they were making enough noise, doing enough to arouse the guards’ suspicions, that they should have burst into the room to defend the prince.

Had _she_ done something to them? Was she trying to frame him, make it seem like he _did_ have magic? That he was a sorcerer in disguise?

“Of course they’re alive,” Merlin said, but Arthur was already marching towards the door. He really _could_ be an absolute clotpole at times. Granted, he didn’t know he was turning his back on two people who had been born with magic, but he must surely know one of them could use magic, and—

Arthur had barely opened the door before slamming it closed again and spinning on his heel.

Merlin swallowed.

The guards weren’t alive any longer.

He didn’t need Arthur to say it, and Arthur clearly knew that.

“It wasn’t me,” Merlin said. “I didn’t do that. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know Merlin couldn’t do that,” Arthur growled, “but you’re not Merlin, are you?”

He was edging towards the chest at the foot of his bed. It held one of his swords—not the sharpest, but certainly not the most dull—and a number of knives hidden in layers of clothing. Arthur could have a weapon in his hand in a matter of seconds.

Morgana could wrench it from him in a matter of seconds, too, but not without blowing her cover.

“Do you remember what I said to you when we first met?” Merlin asked. “When you were being your usual arrogant self?”

Arthur frowned. “Everyone knows Merlin doesn’t address me with the respect I deserve.”

“You didn’t deserve any respect then. Anyway, it turned out not to be much of a mistake.”

“He’s playing with you!” Morgana hissed. Merlin couldn’t tell if Arthur had caught the meaning of his words—or if Arthur even remembered their exchange well enough to do that. Still, he couldn’t afford to be clearer with Morgana around. He had to hope that Arthur didn’t listen to her, had to— “Stop being such a clotpole,” continued Morgana. “You can’t fight him when he has magic!”

So that’s the game she was going to play after all? Make it seem like he had magic? She had to be thinking on her feet. Even if she had come here with a means to disguise herself as him as a way to get to Arthur, she couldn’t have known of the plan to free him much ahead of time. She may not even have known until she saw it in action. If she’d disguised herself as someone else before him….

He and Leon had passed others in the hallway, and he wasn’t sure it had been entirely empty when he’d gone into the passageways with Gwen. She knew Arthur well enough to predict most of his movements. She might have been on the lookout for such a plan to be carried out.

But she didn’t believe he had magic, either.

And as much as he wanted to keep that from her, he’d rather she know—that she and Arthur _both_ know—than have her win now.

Arthur was looking at him when Morgana used her first spell, and he didn’t see her eyes burn gold. Wind swept through the room, and Morgana shrieked as every light went out, not so much as a glowing ember left in the fireplace. “Arthur!”

Morgana thought this would benefit her. That Merlin and Arthur would both be fumbling while their eyes adjusted, that it would be too long before they’d be able to see enough in the dim light from the half-hidden moon outside. She thought she could make her way to Arthur’s side and latch onto him while Merlin blundered about, disoriented.

No doubt, all she wanted was to get her hands on Arthur and teleport him away so she didn’t need to keep up this charade any longer.

With the prince’s absence and the added bonus of Merlin missing from the dungeons, she had no reason to think he wouldn’t be blamed.

But Merlin wasn’t about to let her do that. “ _Hierste þæt íecen sóna_ ,” he murmured, closing his eyes and concentrating. He needed to break her glamour if Arthur was going to listen to him and not be distracted by her lies. This spell hadn’t worked as well as he’d liked last time, and he _was_ dealing with Morgana, but he had to try. He could hear her soft, careful footfalls moving steadily across the floor, and he opened his eyes even as he repeated the spell. “ _Hierste þæt íecen sóna_.”

His words this time were loud enough to draw her attention—and Arthur’s, of course. He scrambled away from Merlin, accidentally kicking the chair Merlin had pulled out earlier. Arthur cursed and stumbled away, back towards the door. Morgana’s shadow froze, just barely outlined as she crossed in front of Arthur’s bed. He didn’t know if either of them had seen his eyes flash, but Morgana would have been close enough to recognize the words of the spell for what they were.

And she would feel his magic warring with hers if she tried.

Merlin was perfectly aware that she would not only know that he had magic but also that his magic was strong enough to do far more than light the odd candle. He was also perfectly aware that she couldn’t fight back without breaking her cover. She could try to turn this on him, of course, trying to use his magic as proof to Arthur that he wasn’t the real Merlin, but she didn’t know what he could do in the meantime.

And she knew she couldn’t afford mistakes.

“ _Bærne_ ,” she murmured, keeping her eyes downcast, and when the swath of cloth hanging down the bedpost behind her caught fire, she leapt away with a scream.

Specifically, she leapt towards Arthur.

“ _Hierste þæt íecen sóna_!” Merlin shouted it this time, flinging out a hand to better direct his magic. She flinched away, but he could see the glamour starting to break. Same dark hair, but it was slightly longer than before; the colours of her clothes weren’t quite right; she didn’t stand as tall as him, even at her full height, and that was becoming noticeable even in the flickering firelight.

He couldn’t afford to waste time putting that out now, so he flicked his eyes to Arthur long enough to make sure he was staying away from Morgana and then focused on her. “ _Hierste_ —”

Something pushed him back, and he fell. It wasn’t violent enough to be obvious—Arthur might not immediately assume it had been a spell of Morgana’s—but he still hadn’t been prepared for it, and he cursed himself under his breath. He knew better than to underestimate her, and all he was doing was proving to her that she should no longer underestimate him. 

“ _Forþ fleoge_.” He cast the spell before he was even on his feet again, hoping to catch Morgana off her guard, but she must have expected it and shielded herself. Before he could try again, she pushed him off balance.

That was fine. He didn’t need to be on his feet to cause the tapestry behind her to fly off the wall and over her head. She wasn’t expecting that, and by the time she’d freed herself, he’d moved to cover Arthur. He tossed another spell at her to make her sleep, but she’d thrown another shield up. In the meantime, he doused the flames licking at the bed—he’d deal with that mess later—and relit the torches.

Arthur, for his part, kept trying to move so that he wasn’t behind Merlin, but he stilled the moment Morgana fought free of the heavy cloth and he saw her for who she truly was.

The glamour had finally broken.

“ _Ástríce_ ,” she snarled.

“ _Scildan_!” If he had to protect both himself and Arthur, he didn’t dare rely entirely on non-verbal spells. But—

“ _Hleap on bæc_!”

—he couldn’t afford not to use them, either. Even as Arthur lost his footing behind him, not entirely protected by Merlin’s shielding spell, Merlin focused on Morgana and _pushed_. This time, he broke though her shield and sent her crashing back into the wall. She crumpled when her head collided with the stone, but he cast another sleep spell on her just in case.

Arthur was so quiet behind him that Merlin thought he was knocked out, but when he turned back to check on him, Arthur’s eyes were locked on him.

And he was gripping a knife—the one from the cubbyhole by the fireplace, from the looks of it.

“You have magic,” he said bluntly.

Merlin swallowed, suddenly wondering if he should have let this play out differently. But his secret wasn’t worth Morgana successfully kidnapping Arthur—especially when _kidnapping him_ would mean _killing him_ —and he’d always hoped the truth would go over well.

He’d always hoped it would go over better than it was so far, at least.

“I did sort of tell you,” Merlin mumbled, “shortly after we met. When you said you could take me apart with a single blow, I said I could do it with less than that.”

“I can’t believe _you_ have magic.” It was a complaint, and Merlin had never been happier to hear one. He let out his breath in a rush. “You— All this time, and you’re powerful enough to do… _that_.” Arthur waved the knife in Morgana’s direction. “You knew it was her. You fought her, protected me, and….” He shook his head. “I can’t…. _How_?”

“I’ve been practicing, you know.”

Arthur stared at him. “Then the rumours are true? Someone actually saw you doing magic? _Mer_ lin, this is Camelot!”

“I know. And that’s one of the reasons I never told you before. I know the laws, and I…. I didn’t want to put you in a position where you’d have to act against your father.”

Arthur snorted. “You say that like I’ve never done it before.”

“Mordred was just a child.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “That wasn’t the only time, and you know it. Honestly, Merlin, if you had wanted to attack me or my father or do _anything_ against Camelot, you’ve had ample opportunity. And Gaius is a good judge of character. I just…. This entire time. You’ve had magic. How have I not noticed when you’re apparently careless enough to let _complete strangers_ catch you at it? You must have used it around me.”

“Well, considering how many times I’ve had to save your sorry a—”

“Have you been using magic to do all your chores?”

“ _That’s_ your biggest concern?”

“How am I to know if you’ve given me leaves to eat that you just magicked into food?”

Merlin bit back a laugh. Arthur had a lot to learn about magic, and maybe this was a sign that he’d be willing to do that. Willing to listen, despite everything his father had ever taught him. “I’ve never done that,” he said, not wanting to get into everything he _had_ done. “I’ve spent most of my time trying to protect you.” He looked back at Morgana, bit his lip, and added, “I don’t know how long my spell will keep her asleep. We need to do something. What, ah, are you going to tell your father?”

“Not that you have magic.” Arthur moved to stand beside Merlin and looked over at Morgana. “I won’t be able to convince him to see you as an ally. We must find another sorcerer to blame for Morgana’s predicament. I…. Have you ever met the old sorcerer known as Dragoon? If we can contact him— Why are you laughing?”

“Sorry,” Merlin said, though his grin made it clear he didn’t mean that in the slightest. “I just…. Yes. You could say I know him. Very well.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “How well?”

“Well enough to do whatever you’re planning.”

“Merlin!”

“I’ll explain when we have more time,” he promised, and Arthur huffed.

“Very well. If you can convince him to show up and pretend he stopped Morgana, maybe even that he spread the rumours about you to try to draw her out, I’ll do whatever I can to make sure he gets away unharmed and remains unprosecuted.”

Merlin smiled. Sometimes, he was fortunate enough to get a glimpse of the king Arthur would become. “Leave it to me.”


End file.
